


You disobeyed me.

by Orestie



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: BDSM, Barebacking, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Dubious Consent, Knifeplay, M/M, Suffering Donald Ressler, What Have I Done, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 17:42:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20604746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orestie/pseuds/Orestie
Summary: Prescott makes Ressler come to a shady hotel to make up for his disobedience towards him. Shameless sadomasochistic porn ensues.





	You disobeyed me.

**Author's Note:**

> TW:  
DUBCON, blood, BDSM, whipping, knives, guns, pretty much violence porn, no protection whatsoever and generally irresponsible decisions
> 
> BOI I SURE DID WRITE THIS
> 
> this is heavily inspired and adapted from that scene of season 5, episode 10, how I would have written it (probably)  
Although I edited it a bit so it's not that obvious, there remain some minor spoilers!
> 
> o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o

"You disobeyed me."

there was no time to react for Ressler before Prescott's hand hit him in the face. *s_mack*_

Blinded by the unexpected pain, he pulled his gun and pressed it below Prescott's throat. Prescott only smiled at him, like he knew exactly Ressler wasn't going to pull the trigger, anyway. Oh how he despised that knowing, superior smirk he had to see all too often in the past few weeks.

"What are you gonna do, Donald... arrest me? On what charge? For Murder? Of whom? For Cover-Up? Of what?"

Ressler hated this tone in his voice, hated the power Prescott held over him. Most of all he hated that he was right. "You don't even know my real name. But I..." he shoved the arm which held his gun down, not the slightest concerned that Ressler still stared like he was about to murder him. "I know everything about you, Donald Ressler. How you posed under a fake name, hired me... what you did..." He spread the files and photos across the table, proof of what might be the biggest mistake Ressler ever made. Aside from basically jumping into bed with Prescott, that is.

"And if you want to continue with me being the only one who knows of your dirty little secret.." Prescott winked at Ressler who scowled and averted his eyes "-you better do what I say. Face it... You're a crooked cop, Agent Ressler. Do you know what they do with crooked cops in prison?"Prescott caressed Ressler's cheek up with one hand and grinned. "And one with such a pretty face..."

Ressler looked to the side and pushed his hand away. "Don't do that again." "Or what? We both know there is absolutely nothing you can do."

Once again, Ressler raised his gun. "I paid my debt. If you ever get in touch again, believe me; I will kill you."

Prescott licked his lips. "Oh, look. Pretty boy is attempting to intimidate me- and just when I was about to propose a request I'm sure you'd be interested in."

Ressler stared at him warily. "Do you seriously expect me to do another dirty job for you? I'm done here, Prescott. This needs to end."

"Oh don't worry, Donald. It's more of a favor on a far more personal level to make up for your mistake today. It won't even have to cloud your prescious conscience... this one only concerns you and me." "What's that supposed to mean? If you're trying to pull any tricks, it won't work on me, asshole."

Prescott smiled. "No tricks. You'll go to the Washington Braxton Hotel, room 620, sixth floor. Be there at 8 pm or regret it."

Without another word, he left the dumbfounded Ressler on his own.

**19:45**. Ressler parked his car two streets from the adress Prescott told him. He was still unsure if he was actually about to do this.

_You did atrocious things just to keep your secret, how hard can it be to- to do what?_

This was to prevent Prescott from committing more crimes he was supposed to take care of, to prevent him from revealing what he had done. This was for the Task Force, to keep going. Right? Ressler reached into the back, pulled his half-empty emergency bottle of whiskey up and chugged 2 large sips. The alcohol burned down his throat.

_Don't pretend that's why you're here_., said the voice in his head. He was about to face the criminal who blackmailed him and controlled his life for far too long now. He had become his personal demon, a nightmare that became all too real. And yet, the adrenaline rush of doing things for Prescott, the way he treated him and pushed him around... it was the only thing which got his mind off from running nonstop in these past few months of trying to keep himself together at any cost; there was no time for sorrow, grief or weakness when people depended on you. Feeling out of control was strangely relieving, and he hated it. Or so he told himself.

He finally exited the car, took a deep breath of the cool air and walked the rest to the hotel, the last rays of sun casting his long shadow on the pavement. _Braxton Hotel _it said just over the glass door in golden lettering- despite of the costly outerior, he'd never heard of the place before. Entering the fancy marble-floored lobby, he snuck past the portier, several guests at the hotel bar and the reception to press the elevator button. No one seemed to take specific notice of his presence, and he surely planned on keeping it that way.

On his way up to floor 6, he checked his appearance in the mirror, readjusted his hair and ran a hand against his cheek_. "such a pretty face..." What on earth are you doing, Ressler? Walking into a secluded hotel room where god only knows what will happen?_

With a small _*ping*_, the elevator stopped and he realized he stood in front of the suite. Oh of course he booked the suite, he wanted the entire floor for himself. _So no one will notice when he'll kill you._ But part of him just did not want to believe that. His steps became slower the closer he got to the door of no. 620. Swallowing heavily several times, he raised his hand, hesitated- and knocked, 3 times. The handful of moments he waited for a response stretched like hours to Ressler until the door unlocked from the inside and creacked open.

One hand on the handle, one hand on the gun in his backpocket, Ressler entered the dark room. Only the distant glow from Washington's Skyline and the streetlamps illuminated the suite and cast the place in a cold, faint light. Nothing looked out of the ordinary- not even really like the place was much in use at all. Suddenly, he sensed movement in the shadows immediately next to him. He flinched and pulled his gun up, pointing it at Prescott who stepped out and let his eyes wander down his body, top to bottom. He smiled, seemingly in approval. Ressler studied as much of Prescott as possible. He was dressed in a black button-up, usual dark jeans and heavy combat boots which barely made a sound as he silently closed the gap between them. He reached out to close the door and Ressler instantly felt cornered.

"Oh come on Donald, aren't we a little past this?" he put a hand against Ressler's gun.

"You made me come into a shady secluded space knowing I wouldn't tell anyone. Only fair I'm cautious you might as well kill me in the process."

Prescott looked amused. "Do you really think it would make sense to kill you?" He stepped closer and tilted his head upward with one finger. "My little bitch at the bureau who I can get to do whatever I desire? Now where would be the fun in that?"

Ressler really wished these word's wouldn't turn him on like they did. "I'm not your damn bitch." "Oh, in case you haven't already, I think you'll prove yourself wrong quite soon." Ressler nervously licked his lips.

"So what do you want from me? And don't even dare try and make me do your dirty work again or I'll make you regret it."

"Look at that, you're trying to threaten me. You're a smart boy, I'm sure you noticed who has the upper hand here. You should be aware by now I've arranged everything so the files you saw will fall into the FBI's hands in case you can't resist the temptation of putting a bullet in my head."

"You're bluffing."

"Well, then. Shall we find out?" Prescott shifted Ressler's hand towards his chest so the gun was placed directly on his heart. Cold blue eyes looked with Resslers in a mocking expression. "If you really want to kill me, what are you waiting for? This is a soundproof suite, no one could even hear a noise... Go ahead, Donald. Pull the trigger if you don't believe me." Ressler's hand trembled, but his expression remained unwavering as he stared right back. "Do it, Don. Come on now, don't waste our time." Prescott's words sounded like a taunt that was slowly driving Ressler insane. It didn't even matter if Prescott told him the truth, he knew he had no choice-he was in his power. With a curse, he put his gun down.

"Good. So we can get started?"

"Enlighten me."

Prescort pulled a gun out of his own pocket and smiled. Ressler sighed. "Don't worry, this is all just part of the game."

"What fucking game?"

"A little game you and I are gonna play tonight, Donald. Now be a good boy and get rid of all that stuff, may I suggest you put it in the safe to your left? You won't need it." He winked. Unnerved, Ressler placed his phone, watch, wire, gun and ammunition in the safe in the wall, locked it and tourned back around to stand in front of Prescott who still held the weapon up. At this point Ressler was uncertain if coming here was a big mistake after all.

Prescott grabbed his tie and pulled him closer. "Strip."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Donald. You disobeyed me once, I won't tolerate it again. This night is your chance to prove to me just how willing and obedient you can be..." Ressler swallowed hard and slowly removed his jacket and loosened the tie, tossing it all carelessly on the ground.

"Go on. You better remove all of it." His heart rate sped up, but he was determined he wouldn't grant Prescott the satisfaction of getting the best of him. Prescott wanted a show? Fine, he could play along. He'd give him a damn show. Slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt starting from the top, giving Prescott a glance at his chest and revealing more and more of his body in no rush at all until he dropped the button-up in a sweeping movement. He ran his fingers up his rock hard abs sensually and moved his hips. When he gave Prescott a provoking, half-lidded gaze, he caught the surprise in Prescott's face and grinned. _Seems like two can play this game._ He unbuckled his belt and pulled it out with one hand, dropping it on the floor besides him. When his thumbs tugged at the edge of his pants, Prescott had regained his posture and his expression shifted to the fond, commanding, cocky grin he was used to. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants and boxers, now completely naked.

Prescott checked him out with a gaze of pure awe, slowly approached and touched his muscles, curves and the scars that scattered his body. Ressler flinched, but didn't dare step away. Trying to keep his focus, he played it cool on the outside, but if he was honest, he probably never felt this exposed before- and not just due to the lack of clothing.

He knew virtually nothing about the man, the only less than comforting certaincy was that Henry Prescott had to be an alias. In return, he knew his real name, knew where he lived, his whole damn autobiography. But that was not the part which truly unsettled him- Prescott was the only one who knew about his darkest secret, how to exploit it to get him to do whatever he pleased. He knew exactly how to get in his head and under his skin. And now, Ressler stood before him, utterly revealed and with nowhere to escape anymore.

Prescott continued to run his fingers against Ressler's skin, pacing around him like some kind of predator. Abruptly, he took a grip of the blonde hair and yanked Ressler down to his knees. That shit hurt. Prescott pulled his arms towards his back and swiftly chained his wrists with heavy handcuffs he got from devil knows where. Leaning forward mere inches from Resslers neck, he whispered "So? How does it feel to be completely at my mercy, Donald?"

Ressler shivered, from the proximity or the words, he couldn't tell. His eyes watched Prescott who had gotten up again carefully, studied every tiny movement. With a click, the gun was pressed below his jaw. "Now won't you open your mouth for me like a good little slut?"

Ressler hesitated. Prescott impatiently pulled his hand back and struck the gun against Resslers head. He blacked out from the sharp pain and almost got knocked to the ground by the impact, but managed to catch himself before and stare in Prescott's eyes defiantly, a small stream of warm blood running from his temple.

"Open. your. goddamn. mouth." The amusement in Prescotts tone had parted to a menacing whisper and something in it pushed Ressler to submit. Slowly, Ressler parted his lips and did as he was told.

"That's much better. Don't make me repeat myself again." One hand once again tugging on his hair, Prescott forced the gun into Resslers mouth, shoving it so deep he almost gagged.

"Suck." When he moved his tongue along the cold steel, the taste was stinging and metallic. If the tang came from the gun itself or his own blood, Ressler couldn't tell. Prescott smiled and unlocked the safe mode, and Ressler's eyes grew wide in panic for a moment. As if he needed another reminder that his life was literally in Prescotts hands. Fuck, he was hard...

"That's better, my little slut. Never forget again who you answer to." Ressler never broke eye contact as he moved his mouth around the gun, observed Prescotts reaction. Clearly he was turned on by this and Ressler could not help but get aroused by the thought.

When he pulled the gun out of his mouth, Prescott was visibly worked up, if the bulge in his jeans and his sped up breathing meant anything. Ressler grinned triumphantly.

"Don't you get too excited. I don't want you to forget your lesson today."

With these words, he kicked his boot in Ressler's stomach. He crashed on the wooden-paneled ground with a grunt. Prescott lay the gun down on the nearby table and gave Ressler a couple of kicks, so blunt Ressler was able to feel that his ribs were probably sprained at least. He sat down on top of him and started beating onto his torso mercilessly. The handcuffs behind his back made it impossible for Ressler to shield himself and they painfully imprinted into his wrists as he struggled more and more with every blow, each one harder than the last; soon, his body was covered with bruises and welts all over. He struggled to catch any breath as he could barely adjust to the nausea caused by the impact of the punches, but Prescott didn't stop and continued to slap Ressler's face hard several times in a row. His cheek burned and simultaneously, he felt the sheer exhileration pumping blood through his veins to pool down further at his groin. Prescott gripped his jaw and forced Ressler to look at him directly.

"You actually get off on this, don't you, you little whore?" he laughed.

And he was right, of course he was. Ressler drew some sick kind of pleasure of getting used and brutalized by Prescott. How or why, he did not even want to explore as long as it continued to push away the numb sting in his chest, replaced it with adrenaline and lust. He had quite a history of self-destructive urges, and this was like another damn drug; might even the most effective one yet. And fuck, he never wanted the high to end.

"There goes my image of the perfect, untainted cop." But that man did not exist anymore for quite a while. When exactly did he stumble and got irredeemably damaged? Was it when he went on a rogue revenge spree? When he committed and covered up a murder? Was it when he let a criminal take control over him, his live, his actions... his body?

"Let's try this again. Why are you being punished, pretty boy?" Ressler breathed in and coughed up some blood. Prescott's hand went around his throat as he squeezed tight and choked Ressler, depriving him from any air and pressing him to the ground. He stared down and smiled as he watched him struggle, his body twitching under him. Just when Ressler stopped fighting back and the world became blurry as he slowly dipped out of consciousness, he let go and Ressler gasped for air.

"Go on, tell me."

"B-be.." he had to summon all his willpower to get the words out. "Bec-cause I disobeyed you."

"That's right, Donald... Because you dared to disobey me. But you will never do that again, right?"

He closed a hand over Ressler's firm dick tightly, rubbed it and gave it a few strokes, making him shudder. With each stroke, he grew harder and hotter and the weight of Prescott on top of him, the pain from the violence he inflicted- it stirred up his longing for the other man so much more. He saw the lustfilled gleam in Prescotts eyes and knew he wanted Prescott to to touch him, use him, make him the object of his cruel fantasies, and the haze made him slowly lose his mind. When Prescott squeezed the tip with his thumb, Ressler barely held back a moan and buckled his hips. Prescott's hand didn't move any further and Ressler looked at him irritated, not wanting to stop now. Prescott leaned over him until his face was just inches from Ressler and he could feel his warm breath on his skin.

"God, you have no idea how badly I wanna fuck you right now..."

"Then.. do it already."

Prescott chuckled. "I bet you would just love to spread your legs for me, you desperate whore, huh? That will have to wait." He let go and Ressler groaned in frustration.

"I wanna make sure you remember this." Prescott pulled back from him and raised his fist for one more hit against his face, heavier this time. The pain send a shock through Ressler's skull, his world started spinning and he felt his eye swell and tear up heavily.

He wasn't granted a break just yet as Prescott stood up and pulled him up at his hair, dragging Ressler who barely managed to get on his feet behind him to the bedroom and throwing him onto the kingsized bed. He climbed on the mattress behind him.

"Come here."

Almost tenderly, Prescott held him close and traced his hands along Ressler's arms. He pulled out a key and removed the handcuffs from his wrists, carelessly scattering them on the ground with a clink.

"Hold on just a little more for me."

He felt Prescott's hands on him, his erection in his back, and despite still feeling dizzy his heart rate sped up in fear, arousal and excitement alike.

Prescott took his wrists and slowly pulled them together in front of him. A chain hanging loosely from the huge metal bedframe layed right next to them, and so he grabbed it and wrapped it around Ressler's wrists tightly. He reached for the other end and pulled the chain up, raising Ressler's arms far above his head unil he was forced forward in a kneeling position again, facing away from Prescott. Heart still pounding heavily in his chest, he anxiously awaited what Prescott would do to him next.

The first strike of the whip hit his back so unforseen it knocked all the air out of his lungs. What followed was a pain that stung like few things he had ever felt before. Another swing hit his back with a loud smack and he felt his skin breaking, blood staining the whip's black leather. He pulled at the chain until the shackles cut deeply and painfully into his skin. Two more clashed onto his back, so heavy he barely held back the tears. The pain was close to unbearable and Ressler struggled to remain still at all.

He had no idea how long he would be able to endure the suffering, his body was in panic mode crying at him to escape, to make it stop. But it didn't stop, the hits got worse and worse and he gritted his teeth, biting his lip so hard it drew blood. He was almost as close to hyperventilating as he was to cumming, his cock twitching between his tights with each stroke. It was too much and not nearly enough at the same time, he yearned for more and more while his body was slowly giving in.

Relentlessly, the lash in Prescott's hand burned deeper and deeper gashes into his flesh as he was hit again and again and at some point, something inside Ressler broke and he started to scream, tears flowing uncontrollably as his body was fighting and twitching and pumping adrenaline in his veins while he was laughing in hysteria between his cries. And the feeling of being bound and restricted, kneeling and having no control over what was done to him, his body, his life- it was totally uncontrollably addicting. Just when he was certain he could not take it anymore, the blows stopped, leaving him to cry in relief and protest alike.

Prescott's sultry voice distracted him. "Mmh... I wish you could see yourself..."

He dropped the whip and sat down next to him to caress his hands on the red, slightly raised criss-cross-pattern. Ressler hissed and shivered in pain.

"You're so fucking beautiful right now..." Precum glistened between his tighs and Prescott traced Ressler's cock with one finger, slowly sliding it down and up again. He pushed him forward so his ass lay bare in front of him, spreading his cheeks and rubbing against his hole with his thumb. Ressler whimpered and rocked back into the touch.

"Don't worry, I'll fill your little hole with my dick soon enough. That's just what you want, right?" he leaned over him and gripped his neck to push it into the pillow.

"To be fucked like the little whore you are? My little bitch?" Ressler sobbed and nodded.

"I just want to do one more thing to your precious body..." Leaving Ressler hanging, he went to the back and audibly got something out of the drawer. When he returned, Resssler spotted a blade flashing in the dark. He shifted his body back in fear, making the chain attached to the frame cling, stretch out and pull at his arms.

"Shhhh. Don't you worry, I'll let off there first." He loosened the chain at the bedside end and due to the sudden lack of support, Ressler fell on his back and groaned in agonizing pain. Prescott climbed on top of him and held the knife directly under his throat, the tip sinking into skin already. Ressler stared at him warily, gritting his teeth in defiance of whatever would come next. "You know, make the prettiest sounds when I make you suffer and your body is all broken and bruised like that..."

The knife slid from the throat over his collarbone further down, touched on his hard nipple and stopped on the bottom of his ribs. "This is a reminder so you'll never be tempted to betray me again."

He raised the knife and stabbed into Ressler's torso, blood spilling out of the wound and staining the knife and Ressler's body with a dark red colour. Drops of blood splashed on Prescott, granting the manic expression in his face a twisted crescendo as Ressler's vision blurred. The shock of the sheer pain rippled through him, and he briefly wondered if he was going to loose conciousness and end up dying right there and then... but at the same time, the pure sensation of being harmed like that, with a knife in his chest, gave him everything he needed to let go.

Ressler cried out of the shock, exhaustion and pain and an uncontrollable need to be used and fucked, and Prescott's thougts seemed to entail the exact same. He licked the knife slowly and sensually and tossed it on the nightstand, moving back from Ressler to get rid of his clothes. When he took place over him again, his dick was rock hard and leaking already and Ressler tried to pull him closer with hands still chained together.

"Impatient, aren't we?" Prescott pressed his wrists back in the mattress above his head. "I decide when it's time to fuck you. I alone." Ressler spread his legs further and tried to rock up despite the intense pain the cut wound in his abdomen emitted, but Prescott's legs held him in place. "Beg." Ressler stared at him unbelievingly.

"Beg, my little bitch. And I might even grant what you ask for." He placed a soft kiss on Ressler's black eye.

"Ple.. please.." His lips were shaking.

"I can't hear you properly. Are you so desperate and needy you can't even form proper sentences, yea? Is that it?"

"Please... please fuck me."

"Louder."

Ressler raised his voice and almost yelled "Fuck me! God, please finally fuck me, please, PLEASE..."

Prescott dipped two fingers in the wound, soaking them with blood and Ressler winced and inhaled sharply. He traced Ressler's entrance, massaging it in little circles until he could slip them in and started moving them in and out. Ressler moaned and sighed in relief. When Prescott added a third finger, he shamelessly omitted obscene noises and his eyes rolled upwards. Prescott pulled his fingers out and placed the tip of his dick on the entrance, pushing it in torturingly slow. Ressler's hole throbbed in anticipation and need and he pushed humself further down until Prescott was half-buried in him. He gripped Ressler's hips so hard Ressler was sure it would bruise and lifted his ass in the air so he could slam into him as hard as he could, again and again, and Ressler whined in ecstasy when Prescott hit deeper and deeper spots within, mercilessly fucking the life out of him.

"Nnngh, oh gOD " he panted heavily while Prescott's dick hit all the sweet spots in him, turning him to a moaning hot mess. The pleasure, the pain, it all blurred to one in the haze of his lust and he was completely unable to form any thoughts other than one. "Don't stop, ah, don't stop, DONT STOP" And Prescott didn't stop, he grabbed his throat to slam his body down against his cock making Ressler scream. He finally put his fingers around his dick which was yearning for touch, for release, gripping hard and pumping up and down in a quick pace, but just as he was about to reach his peak, Prescott paused.

"Turn around", he demanded. Ressler whined, the pain and chain around his hands made him struggle to move. Prescott slipped out of him and pushed him over, painfully landing him on his belly.

"Come on, get on your knees, slut." Shuddering, Ressler got on all fours and pushed his ass up when he felt Prescott's fingernails caress and scratch deep into the streaks on his back.

"You Bastar-" he couldn't continue as Prescott pushed his face in a pillow. Gritting his teeth, he noticed his hard cock on his ass and suddenly, Prescott entered him again, impossibly hard and fucked him into the mattress, pounding faster and faster and Ressler gasped when he felt his hand around him again, the touch so desperately overdue and good and yet not enough.

He needed it harder, faster, the pain numbing his senses until it was all too much and he came, body jerking and riding out his orgasm. Prescotts grip hardened and he lifted him back up, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh of his shoulder and came straight into Ressler. They crashed on the bed, no strength left whatsoever.

Prescott whispered something in his ear, but Ressler understood none of it as the exhaustion, the pain and the bloodloss finally demanded their tribute and his concious slowly faded away into darkness.

When Ressler woke up, the first thing he felt was his head pounding like someone banged onto it with a hammer. He slowly opened his flickering eyes and realized he lay under a blanket, still on the bed he passed out on the night before. He was alone. Inspecting his body and all the wounds he remembered, despite that everything hurt like hell he'd been patched up, cut wound in his abdomen in a proper bandage and even his back felt like it had been treated with something.

With a heavy sigh, he sat up. The sunlight was already glistening through the blinds and he wondered with what mindlessly crazy story he'd have to convince his colleagues why he showed up late, hadn't changed his clothes or why on earth his body was battered and bruised all over. But he could deal with that later. He closed his eyes, remembering the last night, and smiled in satisfaction.


End file.
